This Is How I Disappear
by kirklame
Summary: When Gilbert is paired up with Arthur, he begins to lose it. Unintentionally holding the answers to where Arthur has disappeared too. He, Alfred and Ivan must unite to piece together Arthur's trail before it's too late. With the clock beating down on them, will the boys discover Arthur in time? Or will it be too late?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One.**

Arthur is just one of those people I've never spoken to, because I have never encountered a situation where I've directly spoken and interacted with him without leaning on someone that I know, well until now.

Arthur with his dazzling green eyes that have this darker outer ring, with these alluring emerald orbs inside, which are so luminous in contrast to his pale skin covered in freckles. His hair shines through different shades of blond, the endless twist and flicks that stand all over his head. I think it's pretty cute the way he comes in with this bed hair that looks so soft and fluffy. (Much like my own, if I can say) Accompanied by the giant eyebrows which aren't actually messy with hairs sprouting of in different directions, but just abnormally big, as if someone was messing around whilst creating a _Nintendo_ _Mii_ and just kept enlarging the eyebrows until they hit the maximum.

Arthur, with his honey-coated voice, which sent shivers down my spine when he speaks with the soft, deep murmur that coexists with this deep classic rock voice that only few in the whole university have heard. I, luckily have heard it. Although I only heard it once, but quite frankly I don't think I'll ever forget. All the other times I've ever heard him sing, his voice embraces this soft R&B growl with indications of his accent. He really has talent.

We was in our RM (Recreating Music) Class when Processor Hyde, our teacher decided to pair us to revamp an old song using day to day objects from around the house, as you can obviously guess, I was paired with Arthur. He didn't seem too please when I slumped down in the seat next to him and gave him a largest smile I could muster – which probably to him, could only mean trouble. I laughed when his frown deepened. I don't think I have ever seen him generally smile, the sort of smile where your eyes perk up and you gain smile lines and you let a chuckle leave your parted lips, that smile where cheekbones become more apparent and you look so beautiful. A real smile. I have never seen Arthur smile like that.

I decided I was going to see that smile. This was after he greeted my question "Got any ideas, bucko?" with a curt grunt to brush me off.

"Oh. OK" Was all I could say in return as he began to scribble like crazy into his notebook. I wanted to peer over his shoulder and look at what he was doing, I suddenly had an impulse to see what his handwriting looked like, if he was writing. Or if he was drawing, how good was he?

I averted him and I turn my head to the board, beginning to jot down the requirements of the out of project that Processor Hyde had set into us my book with my own scruffy handwriting. _God_, I think _How am I going to read this later?_ I let a short snicker leave my lips as I hear a loud 'pst', throwing my gaze towards the sound I realise that it was Arthur.

He's holding out this sheet of paper towards me, I cautiously lean forward and let my fingers wrap around the neatly folded paper. The words _For Later_ are imprinted on the front, and the only thing I can do is raise my eyebrow at him in an attempt to ask a question, he shakes me off, raising his hand and looks towards the front of the room. I inwardly sigh as I carry on writing. Well I'd like to call it writing but it looks more like a three year old scribbling than actual English words.

The period ends as soon as it started and, although as I try to catch Arthur he's already disappeared. Which is extremely irritating as he was sitting next to me prior two minutes go.

I decide that now would appear to be _For Later_ time so I delicately price open the paper and read what's inside. As I alleged it's a letter about the project.

I look at his handwriting before I can even process the words he has written. He has the swirly calligraphy handwriting towards the end as I can only guess is his 'scruffy' handwriting, but it looks, to me, like a font on _Word_. Like one of the San Serif fonts with all the curls and the slight slant. At the beginning it's this block writing which is again slightly tilted, his handwriting is just here in front of me in its full glory.

Then I remember that I actually have to read the letter not just study his handwriting. So thus my journey onward.

_You need to come to my house tonight because I will not let you leave this project until last minute. We will discuss what we are going to do and how we're going to do it. If you cannot make it tonight we can always meet up on Thursday._

_If you have any problems call me 07834648344. But if you don't have any problems then do not even think of saving my number._

_My address is 235 Banbury Road, Summertown, OX2 7HN_

_See you tonight at 5 - 6._

_Arthur_

_Oh, please bring anything you deem necessary to help us. _

I suppose I am going round Arthur's. A faint smile graces my lips as I turn down the corridor, hundreds of people surround me but I am only focused on one.

* * *

I arrive at his house at ten past five, his driveway supports his small yellow _Beetle_, the car is most of Arthur's pride and joy, not an ounce of dirt hugs the car and even as I walk swiftly by, I can smell the febreze radiating of it, I presume Arthur drives with his windows down so he doesn't intoxicate himself.

I must say Arthur's house is quite ravishing, the detached house looks like it hides four to five double bedrooms. Flowers bloom around the edge of his front garden, they all seem so beautiful and exotic, but the only plant I can identify is bleeding hearts. Which looks pretty spectacular in the thick of colour, all of the flowers begging for light and life to grace itself upon them.

I realise I have to go into his home at some point and not just potter around the front garden looking like a criminal.

I sigh, trying to locate the doorbell, finding it tucked away on the left side of the door where ivy is growing. I ring, stand back and wait.

It's not long before I can see a silhouette through the deformed glass the front door offers. I watch the doorknob rattle before the figure appears.

But it's not Arthur at all. My hands clutch tighter around the guitar, silently praying that I haven't got the wrong house.

"Ah, Gilbert - Come in." He moves aside to make ways for me, I recognize the Eastern European accent and immediately remember that Arthur has a boyfriend, Ivan. Ivan is Arthur's boyfriend - how could I forget - his name doodled in the corner of everyone of Arthur's notebook, the black _Aldi_ behind Arthur's _Beetle_. The twitter of students they talk about the couples past, reciting moments as if they themselves witnessed it, how could I?

"Thank you" I murmur as I slip through the small gap he has offered me.

Arthur standing at the end of the hallway, smiling dumbly at what I can only guess is because awkward presence I bring "Hey" he says.

"Uh, Hey" I reply, eyeing Arthur's house up as if it was a show home. When you walk in you are greeted by a magnificent staircase, poles swathed in fairy lights, Ivan's coat drapes from the end pole although an umbrella stand along with a coat hanger stands idly by the door. On the left is what I pressure is the kitchen and on the right a study and the lounge. I slip off my shoes and follow Arthur into the lounge, he immediately throws himself down on the brown leather fabric, apologising for the _non_-_existent_ mess. He sighs leaning forwards, extracting a small bundle of _Pringles_ from the coffee table in front of him. I follow in pursuit and taste sour cream raids my senses.

"So" I offer. He eyes me up and I can see the slight reddening in his cheeks before he speaks.

"I, eh, have some ideas that I have written out, obviously not for the fun of it! For the project, the grade!" His face red from embarrassment as he laughs uncomfortably and I can't put my finger on why Mr All-too-proud-Kirkland is embarrassed.

"Right" I say still muddled by his embarrassment "So are you going to show me them or what?" He makes a quick grunting reply before scrambling of the couch and through the door.

Once he has re-entered he's juggling papers and a guitar. Arthur is one of those people who will always reject your help no matter how subconsciously desperate he is for it. He settles back down on the sofa, handing me the sheets and sheets of song sheets and ideas.

"I got a little carried away" He muses, tuning his guitar. I look down skim through the sheets and I quickly realise that Arthur and I share the same music taste. When I commented this I realised that Arthur had relaxed slightly.

After skimming through the provided sheets, disqualifying some for not being able to improvise instruments for or just the general distaste. We narrowed it down to three. Slowly after much discussion we was able to confine it down to one. 'Teenagers' by _My Chemical Romance_ after realising we was able to one instrument. "I wondered why I brought my guitar" I smiled at him. In return he gave me a light hearted twitter.

Soon after much procrastination Ivan poked his head around the door and called something out in what I believe was Russian. Arthur looked back at him, responding quickly before he turns to me. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" His voice is sharp and formal but I know he's not putting it on. I still decline him – deciding that I ought to take my leave. He walks me to the door and lingers in the arch way as I clamber down into the car and wave at him.

He's leaning in the doorway, arms folded until I wave, he waves back and so does Ivan, who is standing behind him, he too gives me a curt wave.

Arthur with his dazzling green eyes, cheeky and completely taken.

* * *

**This is a new story I am working on, it has come about from recently reading Paper Towns by John Green and Th1irteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher. If you're in the mood for a questioning and suspenseful paper back that you can not simply put down I would deviantly suggest these to you. **

**Props to My Chemical Romance for the title. God I miss you guys. *sigh* - right if you have any side pairings you'd like to see, please ask me and I will try to add them all.**

**Thank you. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

Slowly three weeks had passed and Arthur and I have practically completed our project. We have certain areas where we must practice or redo, but all together I must say that we have done a pretty decent job.

We used milk and beer bottles, with water filled at different heights to create the backing drums, which we have successfully recreated. We added things like shaking rice and filmed ourselves humming back ground noises as well as singing the lyrics.

We had to produce a video with the instruments that we have made, or found. Thankfully with Arthur's camera and my software skills, it was pretty easy. We then went about editing the video, to try and up the marks. Unlike me, Arthur is someone who will push for something he wants. He tries in every humanly way possible to get what he wants.

Although, with every great aspect he has achieved he seems very dejected, I have caught him on several occasions saying negative things about himself. Each time it catches me of guard, although I never comment on his heated words – it fills me with an uneven feeling of dismay. Yet, I cannot do anything about it.

I once asked Ivan about it, his face was unreadable when I brought the subject up, but with a low sigh he said that; Arthur likes to wear sunglasses, that shield him from the light. At the time I didn't really understand the statement, but after analysing the words in the middle of a lecture I realised Ivan was talking metaphorically. Professing that Arthur doesn't see the light of life, as he wears _sunglasses_ which deflect the light, causing him to be down and upset.

I tried to get him to steer clear of saying such negative things, but he doesn't. Sometimes he has good days and keeps all the sly comments under wraps. I don't think he realises he is doing it so I won't get mad at him for it.

We have three more days until the project is supposed to be handed in, but we know that the Professor will probably move the deadline with an added or reduced a few days.

It's become her sort of thing to move her deadlines about, "She does it mainly because – if she wants to move the deadline back a few days, everyone will have completed it? Correct, so therefore won't mind. But if she moves it forward it gives everyone a few extra days to go through there assignment and perfect it. But you don't know which way she's going to move it. It gets everyone doing their assignments. She's very philosophical remember. So she tends to do crazy shit like that" Arthur had said once, whilst we were discussing some of her strange antics.

"However, she should still keep to her deadline, I think its bad teaching." I added and he nodded, before taking a deep gulp of his tea.

"Oh, you bet it is."

None the less, we finished the project in record time, it's probably the first time I didn't have to spend hours on the night before, because I had forgot to do it. Each time my brother would yell at me, before helping me out. Which I suppose was in its own way, was an added bonus.

But thinking that in two or three days Arthur and I would go our own ways again frightened me, I enjoyed his presence. His witty humour, and sly comments. I also got to know Ivan in the mist of it. Although broad and menacing, with his cold alluring presence and his rich accent that sent shivers down your spine, he's a big teddy bear. Who is absolutely in love with Arthur.

Not that I can blame him, Arthur's personality is enough to wrap itself around someone's heart and squeeze it dry. Well, I think so anyway, but I suppose that people could have a different response.

I don't see him around University much, and if I do he's with the All-Too-American transfer Alfred _F_ Jones, which for all I know the _F_ could stand for _Fucking_. When you get past his cocky personality and his large Hollywood smile that can be on the threatening side, he's a great lad. He doesn't really understand the idea of internal monologue and sometimes blurts out the weirdest insanities.

Nor does he read the atmosphere, where it's because he is incapable, or the fact that he cannot be bothered. It's beyond me how Arthur can put up with the obnoxious lad.

None the less, we're tight, I guess - I mean we both go out for drinks sometimes, well I drink. He quietly sips at his coke as I would down my third beer. He became our designated driver. Although I'd only get in a car with him when I am drunk. As he is used to driving on the right side at stupid speeds.

Sometimes Arthur mentions him, calls him a minor insult or says something the two once did together as children. Alfred does the same, mainly making fun of his eyebrows and calling him _Caterpillar_. Sometimes Alfred talks about the small dash of guy liner Arthur likes to take up or the many tattoos that even I have gawked at.

I asked Arthur out for a couple of drinks the other night, and he declined. But he said that tonight would work well. He refuses to acknowledge that I own a car and has decided that Ivan with drop us up there and take us home. So after giving them my address, I anxiously wait for the doorbell to ring signalling my departure.

I know exactly what I'm doing tonight. I'm going to ask Arthur questions about himself as he rarely ever talks about himself, in a way he is kind of mysterious. I want to know about his family and how he's managed to gain a house such as his in a short lifespan. I also want to know about how he met Ivan and how he knows Russian. I want to know what he aspires to be, and how he got into Oxford.

The doorbell sounds and I grab my coat and wallet, making my way through the door to greet Arthur. Who gives me a crooked grin before leading me down to what I presume is Ivan's car.

Slipping into the back seat of the car I greet Ivan, who nods back at me through the car mirror, Arthur slips into the passenger seat, giving Ivan a go and we're off. Ivan says something to Arthur but he doesn't respond, he simply says "Rude." Now what's rude? What Ivan said, or the fact that I'm sitting in the back seat.

Ivan gives a soundless chuckle. "Fine" He states.

"Guys" I cut in, thinking now would be a good time to ask how they met, and the need to understand how the two came to develop a relationship of the sort. "How did you two meet?"

Although Arthur doesn't tear his head away from the passenger mirror, a small smile grazes his lips. Ivan is the one to answer "Ah, just after Arthur had turned 18 he flew to Russia with Alfred, who both decided to go to a gay bar-"

"It was terrible in there" Arthur cut through "Everyone kept starring and I needed a fag, so I slipped through the crowd and out the door, but I didn't have one on me."

"So, I gave him one. Well after he tried to ask in Russian for one. He was different and because I know English we spoke a little."

"You offered to take me home and I said that I didn't want to be bedded by a stranger. You tried to convince me for my phone number and I tried to dodge the question. My cigarette had finished and I was about to go back inside and get Alfred so we could leave."

"And before you left, you know what you said to me – you said 'catch me if you can' and I asked what did you mean and you said-"

"If you want to keep me, you better catch me." they said it in unison the car was silent for a few seconds, before Ivan snickered "And as you walked away from me, I said 'run little rabbit, because I'm going to find you'"

"And you did" Arthur says, I'm to blown over by how mad the whole thing sounds, but it suits them. Of course it does. I mean Ivan get what he wants and Arthur does the whole hard to get thing. I get that it works for them.

We pull up by the curve and Arthur leans in to plant a quick peck on Ivan's lips. He apologises when he sees me looking. I dismiss it, saying it doesn't matter and that we should hurry inside. But we don't hurry at all, the stereotypical English weather has begun, the timid tap of rain collides with the floor as we clamber our way into the bar and into a stall.

"I was just about to get on my plane, when Ivan called out to me. He didn't address me as anything other than Rabbit, but he was calling it out in English. It was weird, because as I saw this huge lad pounding towards me, I knew that he had caught me. It's silly of me, but – I can't forget it."

"Its sweet dude, calm down." I reply. Finding the whole thing quite engulfing. If you made Arthur a girl and changed the Gay Bar into a no-smoking restaurant – it would make a great romance novel. "Although" I continue "it doesn't tell me how you know Russian fluently."

"Oh, well. I knew basic words and subsequently I went home after giving him my number and Facebook. We talked for a bit before he asked if I would like to see him and I said 'Of course'. He had brought me an airplane ticket and I went a month later back to Russia. The whole time I was learning it, buying books and apps and even thinking about taking up a tutor. But I didn't – Ivan taught me.

"He would take me to the park and say all the objects in Russian and I would repeat them. He refused to speak English unless I was certain I didn't understand a certain word. He taught me somehow, it was gradual, but I think if I didn't already have that basic understanding of the language, I'd be _fucked_."

Seven drinks later, Arthur is laughing cruelly about my hair colour and I'm doing the same about the size of his eyebrows. He says he thinks the colour is _actually pretty_ cool and I comment that it's because I'm cool. We end up having a rowdy slurred argument. Although no one complains, we lower the volume of our conversation to avoid unneeded looks.

We had passed quarrelling over being _cool_, and are onto cheesy pickup lines. It's my go and I'm losing. Taking a deep swing I turn to him, "Is that a snake in your pocket, or are you happy to see me"

"Used it" he replies smugly. I curse demanding a re-go, he agrees, waving his beer at me drunkenly. "Hurry up then" he smirks in a playful manor, oh it's so on.

"Are you Irish? Because every time I see you my cocks _Dublin_" He laughs, he likes it.

"Are you Diluted blackcurrant Juice? Because that was weak!" He makes a face before laughing, I join. "Right, here we go – Can you hold on to me quickly? Because I want to tell my friends I've been touched by an angel"

I laugh, "Dude, I am totally gonna use that one!" he joins in and once again we reach a chorus of laughter.

Soon, we're outside the bar, I'm singing and Arthur is drunkenly talking through the phone to Ivan, who is obviously speaking Russian. When drunk, Arthur seems to forget it's a language and is asking Ivan to stop speaking gibberish. Arthur laughs down the phone "Oh wait! – You're speaking that language, uh…" he trails of, obviously trying to remember _that language. _"Russian!" He jumps.I snicker at his drunken stumble, he has slipped into the language.

Eliza has promised to give me a lift home. Soon Arthur's phone clicks shut, he stuffs the beaten object into his back pocket before turning to me. "Mr Grumpy is angry at me for drinking too much" He pouts at me and I smile.

"Well, it _is_ your fault that you can't hold your liquor!" His face turns an unpleasant shade of red, his face scrunches up and he wags a finger at me.

"Now listen here, _buddy_. I am not a lightweight. I can drink far more than you and still walk in a straight line!"

He tries to demonstrate but only stumbles and latches onto me. I give out a shrill hoot "You sure proved me!" My voice is laced in sarcasm as I laugh at him. He de-claws himself from me flips me off, and gives me a questioning glare.

"Don't you speak German?"

"No, I _am_ German"

"What's the difference?"

"You speak Russian, but does that make you Russian?"

"Maybe"

A honk cuts of my reply, it's Ivan looking tired but glad to see Arthur, his eyebrows have knotted together and Arthur doesn't even notice him until I point at Ivan and Ivan calls out to him. He mouths an 'Oh' and slips into the car after giving me an intoxicated hug. He waves the whole time as he gets into the front seat. And they're off. Behind them Eliza appears, looking slightly annoyed. I slump into the car and ignore her as she whines about my drinking.

I just want to sleep. But I can still Arthur against me, his fingers clutching onto the material of my top. Him giggling as he stumbles backwards and raise a middle finger towards me. I can hear him talking to me, I can feel his breath radiate across my skin.

What am I doing to myself?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three. **

In the next week we handing our project, in with a small congratulations from the Professor. She comment slyly that it was one of the best she had received over the years; Arthur looked pretty smug with himself after leaving the hall, turning to me with a wicked grin plastered on his cheeks and murmuring playfully: "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah" I mumbled back, pushing his shoulder and forcing him to stumble forward. I cackled, watching him fall. He soon regained his centre of gravity and pushed me back, hard.

The affair happened for a good few minutes, before we entered a thick of people and had to stop all silliness all together in fear of losing each other.

Like always I offered him a lift home, and like always he declined. It was our thing. Just ours.

Slowly the weeks had passed and the flowers were beginning to wilt, summer was over and the trees were letting their crisp red leafs fly.

Arthur and I weren't as productive as we were, with nothing holding us together - we too, just like the leaves, began to wilt.

The cheeky texts full of innuendos and sly puns, became nothing more than the occasional 'you ok?' I wasn't sure what had become of us, or how it had happened, but I wanted it to end, I wanted it to pass like the common cold.

It soon faded away into nothing, and I was left staring at a blank screen, waiting, _hoping_ for that tiny ding to sound, for his message to appear. Yet, like always nothing came.

I didn't offer a lift, nor did he ask. Our thing had died. No us.

Soon the first snow settled and the holiday passed, I spent it with my brother and extended family, cousins, friends, _Roderich_. Yet, no word had resonated from Arthur since the beginning of December. I barely ever saw him around University, he wouldn't reply to my calls, texts, and emails. I asked Alfred once, but the most the boy could do was give an uncertain shrug of his shoulders.

I soon was tired, and I recall feeling angry and alone and generally pissed off. I decided I would visit him, unannounced.

With little black ice scattering the roads, I was able to make it to his in record time; if you exclude nearly turning around twice and refusing to even acknowledge his existence.

I recall actually turning around, turning back around on the closest roundabout and going back towards his house.

I pulled up on the grassy land outside their drive, staring at the structure for a good two minutes before setting foot on the frozen grass and trekking up towards the front door.

Nothing Christmassy hung from the house, and I wondered if they had already taken their decorations down, or if they had never bothered putting them up, I vaguely recall Ivan saying he can manage a tree, but lights was too much, and I wondered if Ivan had caved, from Arthur's thick brown lashes, and soft crispy whispers.

I think I rang the doorbell twice and even though both cars were parked outside, I assumed they weren't in. Just as I was turning around I heard the door handle rattle, the same non-trust worthy noise. I liked it, but maybe I had just become accustomed to it, and what it had to offer.

I looked up through the deformed glass, hoping to lock onto green orbs.

Instead I locked onto sad worried purple ones. I was soon ushered inside.

* * *

The words were thick and it hurt to swallow them; like pills, ones which doesn't look big, but when you put it into your mouth inflates 10 times bigger than it was and makes you choke.

I slurped loudly, trying to drown out the thick sensation that was clogging up my throat. My eyes were beginning to go hazy and my head hurt.

The room began to spin, and I'm not sure if I knocked the tea I was drinking over or not, but I heard a deafening crash and a mighty roar. Maybe, it was a timid clank and a gentle whisper, who knew?

I heard Ivan calling my name in a husky panic, shaking my leg as if to comfort me.

The words resonated throughout me, echoing the rich, heavy pound of my heart. Unsteady, but beating.

My throat was dry, and it hurt to swallow. The words were getting louder, clearer, more painful, until it was a scorching blur.

I looked up at Ivan, he smiled; it was sad, lost but I could see the hope.

I felt the tears pour, trickling onto my jumper and soaking into the fabric. It hurt to move, so I didn't wipe them off, not when they wouldn't stop anytime soon.

My noise began to run and I sniffed a bit, to upset to care.

Ivan patted my leg and handed me a tissue. I nodded a thanks, my voice to broken to use. I was lost, confused, and most of all, angry.

"His brothers say he used to do this all the time, but nothing this dramatic."

"Wha..t, he before...?" I managed to choke out.

"Well, he would go camping in the woods, leave clues to his destination, sometimes he would just wonder the streets, and his parents hated him for it. But they couldn't neglect him even more. Of course; Arthur was a troubled kid, God, I barely know the half of it..."

But Ivan's words became a melted heap on the floor, mixing and turning into a heavy brown mess.

Arthur was lost, deliberately running off and leaving clues in his place, hoping we'll find him.

But if we don't, one of us is dead, and most likely, it'll be him.

* * *

**IT'S A FILLER!**

**Hello, sorry for the wait, this is basically a filler chapter, to get everything going, its short I'm sorry. But I cannot think of anything to add. I'll try to update as soon as possible. **

**Did you guys all have a good Christmas? Hanukkah, holiday from school, please tell me everything you've done, or achieved. **

**Thank you.**


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